The Theory of Relativity
by Royal Typewriter
Summary: An honest story explores both sides, no matter how right or wrong one may seem. How did Kit and Olaf meet, and what drove him to become the villain we knew in The Bad Beginning? Experimental. Rating may change.
1. Watermelon

Midway through a most unfavorably stormy month, he decided to stop his conquest momentarily for some watermelon slices. Taking the first plate he saw, he made his way to the cluster of tables, only to find that none were empty. He considered putting the watermelon back, perhaps, or eating in the bathroom stall, before sighing and shaking his head. That would never work. Watermelon did not keep well in bathroom stalls.

As if by some unseen force of nature, he decided to do something obscenely uncharacteristic. He took a seat in front of someone he vaguely recognized from basket-weaving class without asking, something you or I would most certainly never do. The someone looked up from her scattered array of notes in various colors of pen, highlighter and tribal ink to see who had joined her.

"Salutations!" she smiled brightly.

At the sight of him, most tended to react with repulsion, not welcome. His scholarship status and ungainly, a word which here means "looking as though he got dressed in the dark and forgot to shower every morning" appearance only served to lose him points with any potential friends at this school, leaving him labeled undesirable and that was that. When forced to interact with other students, he was sarcastic and cruel, his only mode of self-defense. When such a mechanism proved unnecessary in this case, he was taken pleasantly aback.

She was pretty.

After several silence-filled moments, she cocked her curl-bedecked head sideways, as if trying very hard to place something.

"You're…Omar?"

"Close. Olaf." He lost the fight not to smile and found himself grinning uncomfortably, like this was something he'd not done many times before.

"Of course, how silly of me. I apologize. Names are not my forte." The girl looked vaguely abashed, and Olaf scrambled to think of a way to reassure her.

"If it helps at all, I have no idea what your name is." At that, he mentally gave himself a very hard kick. He shook his head. "What I mean is—"

She laughed and put her hand on his arm to quiet him. "Kit Snicket."

"Kit," he repeated slowly. "Is that short for anything?"

"No." She shrugged and circled a few choice words on one of her many papers. "Just Kit."

"It's a nice name." Why he couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say today was beyond him. Clearly, his people skills left much to be desired. He sighed inwardly. If this conversation was going anywhere, it would not be because of him.

"What did you say you're studying?" she asked, as if she were a mind-reader or simply very perceptive.

"Oh…theatre. I'm hoping to start my own troupe someday," he said sheepishly. No one had taken care to ask him before, that he could recall. "And what about you?"

"International relations. I think it'd be absolutely fascinating to be a diplomat and see the entire world, don't you?"

"I suppose." Olaf fiddled with bits of watermelon seeds. "Although this world is so corrupt. I can't imagine what about it you'd like to see. Everywhere it's the same, hm?" At the puzzled look she gave him, he added, "Hatred and violence are the same in any language."

"It's not all bad, you know." Kit seemed thoughtful. "If it were, we wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"How do you mean?"

"If we didn't have evil to compare it to, we wouldn't know what it meant to be good. Without darkness, there can be no light." She said this very matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather or how six became afraid of seven.

"You make it sound so simple." He shook his head.

"It is, isn't it?"

"No." he took on a hard expression and unwittingly tensed. "Perhaps not for everyone."

"What do you mean?" Kit leaned forward, notes temporarily forgotten. In the few minutes of conversation with her, Olaf had already gathered that philosophical conversation _was_ her forte. This was one topic he did not wish to pursue having known her so briefly. Kit was the one semblance of a friend he'd managed to make all semester, and he was in no hurry to lose her. Let her think he was worth her time, if only for one more day.

"Never mind." He abruptly stood, picking up his half-finished fruit plate.

"Wait, Olaf." Kit's features registered perplexity and curiosity. If there was concern, he pretended not to see it. "Don't leave. Talk to me."

"I have Theatre History in ten minutes."

"Clearly, I've offended you somehow…" she made to stand, but in the process scattered her note cards and loose-leaf paper across the table and onto the floor. Reflexively, she hurried to pick them up. After gathering a few strays from under her seat, she rose to see Olaf holding out the rest of her effects in a neatly gathered pile. It made a striking contrast against his rough appearance. Kit reached for her schoolwork, and Olaf dropped to her level quickly. There was a lapse of silence, and she realized his eyes were the shade of green one might use if they were feeling daring while painting a guest room.

"Sometimes, it's not so easy to tell the difference," he said finally. Kit's expression told him that she understood his meaning. Whether this was good or not, Olaf wasn't sure. He straightened to his usual hunch and turned to go.

"Will I see you later?" she called after him, not moving from her spot, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to kneel on the floor holding an entire notebook's worth of paper. He had the opportunity to pretend he had not heard and simply keep walking, as most did to him. He wanted very much to do just that, though he couldn't name why. Olaf pivoted slowly.

"Not if you don't want to."

"And if I do?"

Olaf considered. He had just left her the easiest out in the world and she had refused it. Clearly, that counted for something, and deserved something in return. He did the best he could:

"Very well."

And without another word, he stalked in the direction of the sinister-looking fine arts building.

At this, satisfaction lit her eyes. She intended to finish her conversation with this stranger who did not want to let on that he actually enjoyed company, but that was for another time.

For the moment, Kit was content.


	2. Grass

He took a walk after all his classes had concluded. Of course, he stopped briefly at his one-student dormitory room to drop off his materials, but that is generally a detail that goes without saying. It had been a few days since his encounter with the oddity that was Kit Snicket, and he found himself curious. Was she genuinely interested in a friendship? Could this be a joke? A bet?

Olaf sighed and meandered across the winding paths through campus. This time of night, most of the scholars were busy studying or attending some mundane social function or another—not that he was ever invited, nor did he care. Architecturally archaic buildings loomed overhead, but he bypassed them without a second glance. It did not occur to him that he was wandering aimlessly, a word which here means "without a set destination in mind, something most people tend to do at some time or another", until he reached the back side of the sciences compound, where a lake and several trees kept their own company. Olaf took a seat near enough the water to see it, but not enough to actually touch it.

He sighed again.

The tree over him rustled. This unnerved him slightly, as trees are inanimate and should not make such odious sounds, but this one did. Olaf watched it critically before turning back to watch the unseen breeze make itself known through marks on the lake.

Moments later, something else made itself known in the form of a loud crashing sound from the direction of the cacophonous tree. Olaf made a slight sound of surprise and scrambled back on his gangly limbs, observing. From his position on the grass, he could make out a broken branch with one passenger. It was far too large to be a squirrel or ant, but much too small to be an elephant or biplane.

He waited.

The passenger straightened and shook its mass of hair. It was a person, but by now this much was obvious. It brushed itself off and shook around a bit, so he could also assume there was no serious injury. The person looked up, and Olaf momentarily wondered if he should feel threatened.

"Olaf!"

At this, he was slightly surprised.

"I am so sorry about that, I should have made my presence known." The person tripped over, a term which in this instance actually means "made their way to Olaf quickly and lightly, as if they were dancing, which we all know they were not."

"Hello, Kit." Olaf had settled into a less distressed-looking position, with both arms hanging over his knees casually.

"If you can believe it, I didn't hear you at all," Kit continued. "I like to come out here sometimes when it's quiet, you see, because the water is so lovely and reflective, and it's quite a good location to just sit and think."

"I can believe it."

"Well, anyway, I was a bit too involved in my daydream—or actually," she paused, glancing around, "I suppose you'd call it a night-dream, but that's irrelevant. The point is, my imagination ran off a bit too far tonight, and I was paying no attention."

"I tend to make very little noise when I walk," Olaf reassured her. "And at any rate, you were correct. This is a good place to think. It is what I came here for."

"Oh!" Kit looked abashed. "And I disrupted your thought process by falling off the tree in a most unladylike manner. My apologies."

"How did the branch come to fall?" he regarded her curiously. "You're very small. Surely a young lady of your stature could not collapse a branch like that."

"She could when she scoots up too far and sits on the less stable area near the front," Kit sighed.

"Are you harmed?"

"No, I'm quite fine. My blouse might not be, but I never cared much for it anyway." Olaf took a closer look. Indeed, in the moon's illuminated light, he could see the left sleeve had been ripped. Along with that, she was wearing a most unusual flared knee-length skirt. He wasn't surprised, as in the few days he'd known Kit, she had illustrated that she was not one for normalcy.

"Would you like me to leave so that you can return to your thoughts?" Kit interrupted his ponderousness.

"No!" he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. Inexplicably, he raised a hand to his mouth. "I mean, if you wish to, by all means. I don't want to keep you."

"I've no place to be."

"Are you sure?" he regarded her intently. "Have you no studying that needs to be done?"

"I can do it later on," she said with a smile. "I've got the material down, for the most part, and I'm in no rush to get back to my dormitory. It's too lonely."

"Oh—you don't have a roommate?" Olaf cocked his head.

"I used to, but she and I just didn't get along. We were always fighting."

"For some reason, I can't imagine you up in arms about anything," he said with the biggest hint of a smile he'd given all day. "You seem very…tolerant."

"I am!" she threw up her palms and gave him a look of exasperation. "I get along with _everyone_. Except her."

"What happened?" Olaf was new to the world of women, and he simply could not fathom what anyone would want to fight with Kit about.

"She was just very high-maintenance and snobby. To her, I was some freak to be pitied and taken advantage of." For a moment, she looked sad. "I tried to find common ground with her, but she was just too much of a slave to fashion for me, and all she cared about was socializing and shopping. Nothing I could relate to."

He nodded.

"We separated via mutual agreement, though," Kit continued. "That was one thing Esme and I saw eye to eye about."

"Was that her name?" Olaf stretched out on the grass and glanced over.

"Yes. I had always thought it rather pretty. Pretty name, beautiful girl." Kit shrugged. "That was another difference between us, I suppose."

"What?"

"She was so very pretty." Kit rolled onto her back and propped her head on her arms. Her dark curls spilled out of the cloche hat she was wearing and settled around her in the flora. The effect was simple and natural.

"Well, what about it?" he prodded. Surely she wasn't going where he thought she was with this.

"We were different people. I guess it never occurred to me until we became roommates how much I secretly wished to be that pretty."

"Kit!" Olaf's eyes narrowed, and in the lighting gave him a rather sinister aura. "Don't you say such a thing!"

"Why not?" she turned her head on her arms and gave him a quizzical look. "Oh, you don't understand, if you'd have _seen_ her…"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, giving her a look with a hint of sadness. "I don't need to. Whether or not she is as attractive as you say, she sounds dreadful…and…" he trailed off.

"And?" Kit prompted.

"I don't know." Olaf focused on locating obscure constellations. "I can't explain it right now. Ask me another time, and I'll be able to tell you articulately."

Kit looked curious, but knew enough of her still-new friend to have the sense to leave it at that. Besides, so far he'd been a man of his word. He'd tell her eventually, even if she had to remind him constantly. She smiled to herself. That was exactly the sort of thing she would do.

"What's got you so amused all of a sudden?" Olaf, no longer forming pictures from stars, propped himself up on his elbows. "Just a moment ago you were most disillusioned."

"I changed my mind." She kept a cryptic air about her, and gave him a smile to prove it. "As a member of the female species, it is my right."

Olaf shook his head. There was simply no understanding women.

**I'm really enjoying this story, but sadly it's getting lots of hits and no reviews! As of yet, I haven't found a fic following this plot so far, and again, I've received no feedback whatsoever, so I'm unsure of what everyone thinks of it. If you could, send a review my way so I have some ideas for the next few chapters! **

**-Katie**


	3. Rain

The commonly-overlooked spot by the lake behind the science complex would soon become a traditional location for conversation between Kit and Olaf. However, when a particularly ghastly storm hits a campus, that sort of meeting cannot very well take place, no matter how much it coincides with the predetermined schedule.

Olaf registered this as he halfheartedly scribbled notes in his contrastingly well-kept composition book. The theatre history teacher seemed oddly animated for such an odiously overcast day, but his aura did not seem to spread to his students. Even when he resorted to pulling out his trunk of props, no one moved forward to claim the feather boa as they usually would. Mr. Linde seemed taken aback by this, as the boa was usually the first to go. He moved to speak again, touching on the popular subject of ancient Greek theatre, but was interrupted by the door screeching open.

Mr. Linde made a mental note to get those hinges oiled, which you and I both know he would unfortunately forget to do.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he called from the front of the room. His voice created a rather intimidating echo, but his visitor did not flinch. She smiled brightly and held up a notebook of her own.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I'm looking for Olaf. I need to return the notes he lent me."

Everyone in the area, interest now piqued, swiveled in their seats to see who had business with the scholarship student. A few students looked surprised upon seeing Kit, as if they would not expect someone of her grace to associate with a young man such as Olaf.

"I would have tried to do this on my own time, but Olaf's schedule and mine hardly coincide at all, and as I recall, he will need this notebook for an examination later today," Kit explained upon seeing the quizzical look Mr. Linde gave her. It was generally preferred that students tried their very hardest not to interrupt class, unless someone was in the hall dying of strep throat or they had found the missing link. Kit's charismatic demeanor seemed to mollify the teacher, however, and he waved her in and, after a moment's search, pointed her in the direction of her comrade.

"How much did you have to pay her to pretend to be your friend, Olaf?" an indistinct voice toward the left side inquired.

"Where would he get the money—his scholarship?" another added, sounding less than friendly.

Several snickers followed, but Kit ignored them and made her way down the stairs and across the row, where Olaf was sitting alone, his head now slightly turned away. It is a little-known fact that blushing is not always a good thing, and this was a good example of when this is so. He had flushed a darker pink than was customary for anyone who had only been pleasantly embarrassed.

"Here," Kit whispered, sliding the notebook at him. At first, he seemed to ignore it, but she pushed it insistently at him. "Come on, please take it."

Seconds later, he turned quickly and snatched it from her, then sank back into his chair. Kit sighed, knowing that she had inadvertently made his situation worse. There was no time for an apology, and no subtle way to do it, so she simply spun on her heel to leave discreetly. On her way back up the steps, she found herself unable to contain her inherent propensity to speak against wrongdoing.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Linde. I look forward to seeing your students master the art of acting, so that they might convincingly pretend to be civilized. Judging from the way some of them behave, I suspect acting is the closest they will ever come to it."

And with that, she deftly, a word which here means "in a very dignified, 'take-that' manner," pulled open the door and was gone.

Even Olaf had to be impressed, so much so that he didn't realize until a few moments later, when the class had calmed down from the outburst, that this was not his notebook.

He turned it over to be sure, but no, he had never owned it. The cover was dark red and adorned with a typewriter graphic. Olaf wondered if this had been a mistake, until suspiciously he opened it. No one seemed to notice, as he was now being doubly ignored. Flipping through the pages, backwards, they were all blank with the exception of the first.

_Olaf, _

_ Due to the fact that our schedules did not, in fact, look like they would coincide today, this seemed the best method of communication both now and in future instances like this. The atrocious weather has been duly noted, and as a result, I must ask that we do not meet by the trees as is customary. Once you are done with all of your classes today, kindly make your way to Robinson Hall. I will meet you outside if you are able to come around the usual meeting time._

_ Respectfully, _

_ Kit_

His mind processed the elegant cursive slowly before realizing that his humiliation may have been worth it. Others could belittle him all they wanted, but his fear that Kit was not really interested in friendship was waning, almost to the point of extinction. Instances like these made him realize he had found something real in this place that he most likely would not again for a very long time.

He had never been so grateful that he'd chosen basket-weaving over indigenous studies or cooking as an elective.

Olaf was shot some glares once class ended, but he ignored them in favor of getting to his last one of the day, set design. The sooner he concluded that, the sooner he could visit Kit.

Set design was actually rather enjoyable for him, as he enjoyed working with his hands. They were sizeable, and his fingers were rather long, but that aided him with assembling the more difficult set pieces and painting. His classmates were not as vile to him there, and some, who he also recognized from drama, would occasionally speak to him. Today was busy and not very talkative, except when one of the girls popped over to ask him to help her put something together. Her partner waited anxiously from their workstation, watching the interaction. Both were very pale and quiet, but nice enough. Olaf had gathered that they might be twins, but never got around to asking. He remembered them being particularly fond of the white powder whenever they practiced stage makeup in their other class together.

"All set," he said, handing her the clock he'd helped put the backing onto. She thanked him almost inaudibly, and the teacher dismissed them shortly after. Olaf shouldered his bag and was the first one out the door.

The rain had not let up at all, and most of the students hung back inside the building or ran savagely with their bags over their heads. Olaf was indifferent to rain and walked through it as if it were not there. This earned him a few more incredulous looks, but two years at this school had desensitized him remarkably. He focused on trying to recall which dormitory was Robinson.

Once he found his bearings, he made it there easily. The courtyard in front of it was vacated, but he noticed a lone figure standing under the awning by the entrance. The figure gave him a wave, verifying that Kit had indeed waited for him. Olaf traipsed up the steps and shook himself off a little.

"Why, Olaf! You don't mean to tell me you walked all the way up here with no umbrella!" she looked distraught.

"Why not?"

"Look at you! You're practically carrying the entire Atlantic ocean!"

"You exaggerate," he jested, nodding toward the door. "How about we go inside and then worry about whether I shall die of hypothermia before I reach my twentieth birthday?"

Kit unlocked the door with her dormitory key and half-dragged him inside and up the stairwells. When they reached her room, she finally loosened her vice grip long enough to let them both in. He was able to take in a second's worth of the surroundings before a large towel was imposed upon him.

"Kit!" he sputtered, some of the material having attempted to suffocate him.

"Dry off," she commanded. "I can't believe you would do such a thing!"

He shrugged while obeying her orders, at the risk of incurring her wrath yet again. Kit paced the room, waiting for him to reach a reasonable dry factor. He was able to remove the towel from his line of vision and get a good look at the room.

One wrought-iron bed bedecked in a colorful quilt and a dresser to his left; a desk full of photo albums and a backboard pinned to capacity with postcards, letters and photos to his right. Shelves against the wall held books and a great many cloche hats. The closet door was ajar slightly, revealing a few dresses and coats.

She had managed to make this space look very lived-in, despite the fact that she was alone. Kit had taken a seat on a rug she kept in the center of the room and was now playing with its threads while she waited. Olaf set the towel down near her and sat on it, reaching for his bag to pull out the notebook in the process.

"Clever idea, Kit, though rather poorly executed."

She bristled at this. "I wasn't trying to embarrass you; it was just the only thing I could think of."

Olaf shook his head. He hadn't been trying to make her feel guilty, and now that the incident was hours over with, it hadn't really been so bad anyway.

"I was just kidding. I apologize." He put the book down between them. "What did you want to use this for, exactly?"

Brightening, Kit flipped it open. "See, there are many pages here just waiting to be written on. It is a commonplace book, and I propose we share it."

"Commonplace book?"

"It's very versatile. You can write down thoughts, observations, or anything like it in here. It doesn't have to make sense. We can pass it back and forth every few days, and it can serve as a good way of designating whether we can meet to talk or not. And," she added, looking rather intrigued, "it'd be a good way to get to know each other better. You could have a look at my thoughts, and vice versa."

"Why would you want to know what I was thinking?" Olaf looked surprised. "Aren't you worried you'd be scared off by my twisted mindset?"

"Of course not!" she laughed, pushing the commonplace book to the side. "No more than you would be put off by mine."

"No, I think I'd find it interesting," Olaf decided.

"Well, there you have it." Beaming in triumph, Kit nodded affirmatively. "So we have a deal, then? We'll pass it back and forth? And we'll use it often?"

"Of course."

"Oh, and Olaf?" Kit gave him a crafty look, as if she were playing poker with him and knew his tell. The expression itself was a bit unnerving, considering it seemed like she was about to warn him against something he hadn't realized he was about to do, but would later.

"Yes?" he asked hesitantly, before it dawned on him that he probably knew exactly what she was going to say. The worst of it all was, he knew he'd agree to it for her.

She proceeded, confirming his suspicion.

"No crossing anything out."

**I'm very grateful that people seem to be enjoying this so far. It's definitely coming along a little better now, and as always, input is much appreciated!**

**-Katie**


End file.
